


Wicked Thing

by hysteria87



Series: Between Two Points [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Porn, F/M, Heavy Angst, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 12:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20994515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hysteria87/pseuds/hysteria87
Summary: They were not together and they never would be. The rules were there for a reason, right? It was just easier this way. Until he left.Sequel to Between Two Points (Recommended reading but not necessary)





	Wicked Thing

**Author's Note:**

> I refuse to let these two go. I know OFC fic isn’t really popular, but I had to write this and I’ll continue to write them. There’s two more stories with them in planning, so there’s more to come. I wrote this for me; I hope you enjoy. Kudos are so great, but comments are AMAZING. I'm Hysteria87 on tumblr is you don't want to comment here.

_ “I’m moving to DC.” _

_ It wasn’t really a question, and his voice didn’t waver. She could tell that it was a decision that had been sitting on him for a bit, but he just now felt that it was time to voice it out loud.  _

_ “For work?” she asked as she tucked her feet up on her couch, trying her best to sound nonchalant, like they were talking about something as mundane as which train would get them to Manhattan fastest. _

_ “Yeah. Boss wants me to do some work for Corporate for awhile. He says it’ll be a promotion,” Steve veiled, leaning forward in his chair, the sleeves of his sweater pushed to his elbows and his fingers steepled towards the floor.  _

_ “That’s great then, I’m happy for you,” Elle encouraged, trying her best to keep her voice light as she suddenly found the throw pillow to be the most interesting object on the planet. None of it really mattered anyway, did it? Realistically, he could just disappear again and there wouldn’t be anything she could do about it, and she would have no license to care or complain. They had made a deal, to not make any of this mean anything to them, that they were nothing, and she had worked hard to keep her end of that deal.  _

_ So what if he was moving? New York had returned to a relatively safe state, some guy wearing horns was beating up thugs in Hell's Kitchen but other than that, there hadn’t been any aliens ripping holes in the Earth’s atmosphere in nearly six months. Steve was never meant to stay and fight petty crime, be a cop. Ever since they first slept together, Elle knew there would be a day when he wouldn’t stay, and she never wanted to be a reason that he would. She never wanted to make him make that choice. _

_“How are you really feeling about it?” Steve asked, catching her eye, and her breath caught in her throat. _

She had lied--told him that it sounded like an opportunity he couldn’t pass up--and with barely a kiss goodbye, he had left that same night. His apartment was leased out the very next week by some skinny hipster asshole who smelled like weed and kombucha. There were more like him moving into Brooklyn, something about it being the cool borough now. If someone would have told Elle a year ago that half the complex would leave and the new apartments would be rented out at outrageous prices, she wouldn’t have believed it. Brooklyn was always… a purgatory of sorts. If you had money, you lived in Manhattan. A family, then you went over to Queens. If you had neither, and refused to live in Jersey, well, then Brooklyn welcomed you with graffiti covered, rent-controlled arms. Mind where you step, there might be a dead rat. 

The last six months or so, everything had gone gray, as Elle could only describe it. Gray wasn’t bad, there were many shades of gray (as a popular book reminded everyone.) There was still light in gray, still warmth. But, it just seemed to be glossed over, muted down. Nothing had changed, not really. Work was still good and her family was still fine, being far, far away from New York. Tony Stark still did flyovers every few weeks or so and tourists still loved to stop in the middle of the sidewalk near Grand Central and point up, disrupting everyone who actually needed to get somewhere. Even though the world seemed gray, everything was more or less the same as it was a year ago. 

But then again, a year ago,  _ he _ was still around.

_ “I hope you’re hungry because I’m making pancakes…” Elle called over her shoulder as she sauntered across his dining room. Hastily, she threw her long, chocolate brown hair up into a messy bun. Her raised arms inched the bottom hem of his blue plaid shirt just high enough that he got a nice glimpse of her asscheeks as she walked away and Steve couldn’t help but smirk to himself. It was Friday and he had been gone all week, shuttling to and from S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters for whatever Fury decided they needed him for. Jesus, even Tony got time off to relax, Thor went back to Asgard, Banner and Barton disappeared as they wanted. It was pretty much only him, and Romanoff when needed. Despite Fury’s efforts, Steve still tried to make some semblance of a life here in Brooklyn, and that life involved being around Elle when he was here. _

_ It was still early, the sun just starting to peek through the separations between the buildings. She hated getting up early, but he loved it. Leftovers from his time in the Army--there was never any sleeping in anymore. It suited him though; waking up early allowed him to go for a run, burn off some excess energy in some way. Not that he really felt like running this morning. His eyes stayed on her, reaching up on her tiptoes for a mixing bowl on the top shelf, his shirt doing nothing to give her any real modesty.  _

_ The flame flickered inside of him, a once foreign feeling now being one that he welcomed. No, he didn’t really feel like going for a run, but he did have other ideas of how to get his heart rate up. Steve threw the thin sheet that was covering him to the side of the bed and he stood, stretching each muscle group as he silently crossed into the kitchen. He watched her for a moment--all her ingredients laid out on his counter but still struggling to reach what she really needed--before he took a step forward, pressing his hard body against her back and easily retrieving the bowl for her. Instinctively, she leaned back into him, enjoying the attention so early in the day. _

_ “How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t have to cook for me…” he growled, his lips at her ear, the pads of his fingers on his left hand dragging up the soft skin of her thigh while his right one unbuttoned the few she had done up. Her hips ground back into his as he found his goal, drawing sleepy lazy circles, and she could feel his growing hardness against the small of her back.  _

_ “The pancakes are for me, I was just being polite,” she teased, any thoughts of a real breakfast going from her mind at his touch. She sighed dreamily as his hands explored, his lips trailing along the skin of her temple. She knew he had begged his superiors to have this weekend off, to only need to come in if there was some sort of extreme, world-ending emergency. He had done it for her, even though she never asked him to. It was against the rules, the unspoken restrictions they had worked out together. She didn’t ask specifics about his job, and he wasn’t overprotective of her. They were not dating. They were not in a relationship. No pet names. No obligation to call or text, to check in, to inform in any way. They were not exclusive. Although, as far as Elle knew, neither of them really followed the last two. She had been the one to help him learn how to use a smartphone when his job gave him one, so it only seemed fitting that they text sometimes. And oftentimes, those texts were questions of when he was going to be home again. She worried that he was getting hurt, even though she knew he was more than capable of handling himself, and she couldn’t help sending him texts of things that reminded her of him. Truth was, she loved it when Steve was there and missed him more than she wanted to admit when he was gone. _

_ “Oh?” Steve questioned, his strong arms firmly wrapped around her, his hips pinning her against the counter. Her right hand snaked up to tangle in his hair as he assaulted her neck, and her brain started to go foggy. He smelled so good in the mornings, more like how she remembered him smelling when they first met, in the elevator after his workout, a deep musk tinged with a good sweat. Gruffly, he turned her around, lifting her ass onto the counter, forcing her legs apart so he could stand between them. His assault on her neck didn’t waver and he pulled her hips to his, his hardness resting against her stomach. “And what do I get to have for breakfast?” _

_ Her arms snaked around his neck, her body screaming at her to let him have his way, knowing that the only real way to wake up anymore was with Steve’s touch. But her brain was tapping its foot in the corner, in time with the clock he had above his sink, each second slipping through their fingers. “Whatever you want to have…” _

_ His lips moved away from her chest, gently using the tip of his nose to move her chin up, his heavy breath warm against her throat, “Is that so? You’ll let me have you then?” _

_ “I’m not on the menu, Rogers. You know I have to go to work…” _

_ “Call off.” _

_ “I can’t.” _

_ “You’re the boss now, so why can’t you?” and he used the pad of his thumb to flick the sensitive bud of her nipple, halfheartedly trying to get her to stay with him.  _

_ “I’m middle-management at best, which means I have the least amount of freedom out of anyone at the company,” and she placed a gentle hand on the side of his face, forcing him to look her in the eyes, “I wish I could stay, I really do. But I can’t drop everything just because you’re here. That would make me dangerously close to being…” _

_ “A girlfriend?” he finished for her, resting his forehead on her own while she massaged the tight muscles on his back and arms. _

_ “And neither of us want that,” she whispered. Maybe if she said it out loud, she would actually believe it.  _

But no, Elle wasn’t going to be Steve Rogers’ girlfriend. Not then, not ever. For him, it meant that she wouldn’t be put in danger, to be targeted and used against him. Rejecting that label made it so much easier for her to keep her distance, to keep herself from getting hurt when he inevitably had to make these kinds of decisions. Her brain knew that it really was better this way, despite what her heart wanted. A few weeks after that moment was when he left, and since then, he’d been a ghost. No calls, no texts, no contact. There were reports on the news of some guy, the Mandarin or something, calling out Iron Man, not Captain America, so as far as she knew, he was still alive, which she supposed was better than the alternative.

In the distance the thunder rolled for what seemed like forever, and the rain was beating at her windows, drowning out everything save for a lone motorcycle that ripped down her street. She took a sip of her wine and tucked her feet under herself on the couch, waiting for Matt to finally finish in her bathroom so she could start the movie--although, her heart really wasn’t up for it tonight. Matt had certainly been a distraction for her as of late, something she thought she needed to do. She had spent enough time denying and moping, so when he asked her out for drinks after work, it seemed like a good idea. What they had was still very young, but it was nice. 

Nice. 

Pleasant. 

Enjoyable. 

Even thinking those words put the taste of a stale scone in Elle’s mouth. Those were words the ladies of Downton Abbey used when they were being courted, not what a woman in the year 2013 wanted to use to describe a budding… anything. Matt was sweet, big brown eyes and a slightly crooked smile, he fit in well with everyone at the company. That was how they met, he was the new guy in the Finance department and Elle had supervised his tech onboarding. A few weeks ago, his brunette curls were cute, sort of like Cory from Boy Meets World. Now, they were just a pain to get her fingers through. Still, he was here, and he wasn’t going to disappear to fight interplanetary injustice, or up and move to another city the same day as he told her, so at least he had that going for him.

She wanted to be mad, she really did, but when times were quiet enough to let her brain shut up for a moment, she found that something else cut through. It wasn’t really hurt anymore, that had gone away too. Elle was heartbroken, not because he had left, but because he wasn’t here anymore. She found that it didn’t seem to matter how or why he had gone, all that mattered was that she missed him more than she wanted to admit. Even with the rules and boundaries, for those few months, he was a constant presence and he had an air of calm around him. They could talk about thoughts and fears and it never got old. He was excited by learning everything he could about life in the 21st Century. She could count on him to hold her through the night when her nightmares of buildings falling down around her kept her awake. It was evenings like these when those memories started to come back, when the warm September days gave way to chilly nights, when it all reminded her of him again. It was getting hard being alone, but the hardest thing was knowing that no one else would understand. It wasn’t like she could exactly tell Matt that the guy she was fucking on the regular before they had met was one of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, and if she told any of her friends, they would just tell her to get the fuck over him (probably by getting under someone else.)

Elle refilled her glass, emptying the bottle of wine. She knew that she'd had more of it than Matt had, but she wasn’t nearly close to being drunk or even buzzed yet, and that’s where she wanted to be tonight. Maybe if she drank enough, then she could actually focus on the here and now, on the movie and the kinda cute guy who was probably looking to get lucky tonight.

“Matt, hurry up in there, I already have to open another bottle,” she whined a little, unfolding herself from her spot. 

“I’m almost done, go ahead and start the movie and I’ll be out in a minute,” he called from behind her bathroom door, and she rolled her eyes as she stood from the couch, making her way into her kitchen.

“You know I don’t do that,” she called over her shoulder and she crossed the threshold, flicking on the light, her hand immediately covering her mouth to muffle her scream.

Someone was climbing over the bannister of her balcony out the back door in her kitchen, not giving a shit that it was pouring out. The man pulled himself over using just his upper body strength, landing on the porch hunched over, taking a knee. Immediately, Elle grabbed the baseball bat she had hidden next to the fridge and pressed herself against the far wall, hoping that whoever it was would realize that the door was locked and just leave. Her phone was back at the coffee table and she cursed herself for not having a landline, emergency phone, anything to be able to contact the police. Matt would have to come out of the damn bathroom to be able to do anything; if she called out to him then the intruder would know she was home. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

With a firm grip on the bat, Elle chanced trying to get a look at what the man was doing. Maybe he had left, or at the very least she could try to get a look at his face to be able to tell the police later. His dark clothes made it nearly impossible to see him clearly against the storm and he was wearing a ski mask, of fucking course. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating everything in its path and Elle could see that he had something on his back, a red and white backpack or something, and her stomach sank. This guy, this criminal, had come prepared to break in if he needed to. Her body shaking, she let out a small frustrated cry, praying in her heart that if he came in, he wouldn’t hurt her. He could have whatever he wanted, just not her, please god.

His head snapped up at her cry and his eyes met her own, the blue of the ocean that she so desperately wanted to drown in and she dropped the bat, her hands going to her mouth again to stifle her scream. Finally, he stood his full height, the silver star on his chest reflecting in the warm glow of her kitchen and he took off his helmet, revealing himself to her.

Steve Rogers had come back.

It was as if a ghost had materialized right in front of her, rising up from the dead. There was no way he could actually be here. This was it, this was the psychotic break that she only half-imagined would eventually happen. She wanted him back here with her so badly that now she was seeing him, a memory that refused to be locked away for good. Except, this didn’t look like a memory. This was different, fresh and new, the uniform breaking with the traditional red and white stripes, his hair cut short, more modern than it had been. This was a Steve that Elle hadn’t ever seen before. This couldn’t be a ghost.

It pained him a little bit to see her so shocked, but what else did he expect? He knew it wasn’t going to be the smoothest reunion and it was entirely his fault. He had waited too long to tell her, left her with nothing else, kept her in the dark since that day. Once again, he was living up to his reputation of being the world’s leading authority on waiting too long. But, he was determined to make that stop tonight. His eyes caught hers again and he lowered his head a bit, silently asking if he could come in out of the rain. She hesitated for a moment, picking on the edge of her oversized sweater while looking over her shoulder out towards the living room before she made quick work of the lock, sliding the door enough to let him in.

Stepping into the warmth, he set his helmet on the kitchen counter, pulling a hand through his hair again to try to get it into some sort of style, something other than wet. She stood and took him in, pressed against the counter, her knuckles gripping the edge of it tight. He had never shown up in his suit before, always making the effort to keep his work and his… whatever they were, separate. It was different than the one he was wearing during the Battle of New York; this one being exclusively a dark navy blue with some silver stripes across his chest and wrapping up his shoulders. She had never even seen the shield, not even when they spent time at his apartment. But, there he was, in the flesh. Captain America.

“I’m sorry to scare you, that wasn’t how I-“

“How did you get on my balcony?” she interrupted, keeping her voice hushed. It wasn’t an angry or accusatory question, just a simple one, bringing physics into play.

“I climbed.”

“It’s four stories.”

“I’ve been training,” he answered nonchalantly and she continued to stare at him, her face unreadable. The silence between them was deafening and uncomfortable, something that it had never been before. His fingers itched to reach out, to hold her again, to explore the familiar map of her that he had to recreate from memory so many nights. Instead, he busied himself with his sleeves, pushing them up to his elbows.

“How are you here?” Elle let fall from her lips, her brain having so many questions and yet, at the same time, unable to really form one.

“I’m AWOL right now. I’m sure I’ll hear about this when I get back.”

“When you get back?”

“When I go back,” he affirmed and her shoulders deflated slightly, “I had a mission upstate but I took my bike off course a little.”

“A mission? Anything I need to-“

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he finished for her and she bit her bottom lip a little, making his stomach do a backflip.

So, Steve wasn’t going to be staying, this was just a side trip. An unauthorized side trip, but a side trip nonetheless. Somehow that knowledge didn’t make things much clearer for Elle. Seeing him here, standing in her kitchen, hearing the velvet of his voice again, it was a dream come true. Her heart couldn’t help but race knowing that he was less than two feet away, and her nerve-endings cried out, sensing his presence. But her brain, her stupid brain was once again shaking its finger at her, telling her to calm the fuck down. He would leave again. Nothing had changed. He was making a mess of the floor and she should be furious with him, she should be shouting and pounding her fists on his chest. She should blame him for how she’d been, how he left her, how he should have known that they would mean so much to each other. She tried, she tried so fucking hard to keep Steve Rogers in his own little box in her mind, one that she could just throw away when his services wouldn’t be needed anymore. She had tried, and she had failed. 

Because Steve Rogers didn’t live in a box, and he refused to listen to the word _ no _ . He was too big, too strong, too fast, too smart to be confined to just one thing, to just be what it is that someone else deemed him to be. He was a good man and he would always do what he thought was right. He noticed when someone was not themselves, when something was off, and he’d be the one to fix it. He had a way of cutting right through the bullshit, of knowing what she needed to hear or him to be, and there was no way he was ever going to just live in a box in her brain. He coursed through her veins, changing her, bringing out the best in her; and when he left, he took part of her with him. She had learned to live without him, of course--but she was always going to ache for him to come back.

“I needed to see you,” he cut through her thoughts, and she noticed that the distance between them had gotten significantly smaller. She allowed herself to reach out, her fingers lightly outlining the silver star that adorned his uniform. She hadn’t given herself permission to believe it was real until this moment, when she could feel him once again. It was surreal in a way. She had wanted him back so badly and for so long, but not like this. Elle wanted Steve back, her Steve, who would meet her in the park by her work with lunch after he finished catching up at the library for the day. The one who still texted like he owned a flip phone. The one who just found out what the peach and eggplant emojis mean. Not this soldier. Not Captain America. His gaze followed her arm to her fingertips, each one taking their time memorizing the perfect symbol, one that had been emblazoned on his chest since the beginning. The one he could never really hide away. 

“Why didn’t you call? Or text?” she asked, tearing her eyes from his armor and meeting his own.

“If I had, would you have answered?” he asked back, a hand tentatively reaching out for hers, but the noise in her living room set both of them on alert. Instinctively Steve reached for his shield, pulling it off his back and onto his arm in one smooth motion. He tried to step in front of Elle at the threshold but she moved between him and the intruder, a young man who looked very confused at what was going on.

“I heard noises and wanted to make sure…” Matt started but the words quickly faded from his throat, his jaw hanging open anyway. 

Elle was mortified. She knew that things weren’t serious with Matt at all, and things were never meant to be serious with Steve, so there wasn’t anything to apologize for. But still there was guilt gnawing at her stomach, knowing that neither was ever supposed to know of the other one. How in the hell could she ever explain to another man that her last lover was a super soldier whose body was literally a weapon, who managed to use her up and make her feel like more of a woman than anyone had ever before. No man could ever handle that well. And Steve, he had walked out of her life, making it pretty apparent that he never intended to walk back through her door. So, having him stand on guard in her kitchen while he stared down at the softer, smaller man was almost too much for her to handle.

“Steve, please, it’s okay…”

“Why is this man in your apartment?” Steve interrogated, relaxing his guard but still gripping his shield tight.

“Holy shit, Captain America!” Matt exclaimed, completely disregarding the oddity of the situation, “Why is Captain America in your kitchen?”

“Is he your…?” And the rest of Steve’s question got lost, his usually strong heartbeat seemingly slowing to a stop in his chest as he tried to put the whole situation together. Of course she wouldn’t have waited for him, it was stupid of him to even let that thought float into his brain. But being presented with the evidence so plainly made it almost impossible to deny. This was a wasted mission, one he shouldn’t have ever tried. 

“Matt is not my boyfriend,” her voice rang loud and clear, making sure that all parties understood.

Steve’s heart kicked in once again, the adrenaline coursing through him. He was dying to pull her to him, to weave his fingers in her dark locks and kiss her, Matt or anyone else be damned. 

“Well, we’re not exclusive or anything but we have been out a few times…” Matt started, his posture straightened so he stood to his full height, chest out and jaw set, “How do you two even know each other?”

Elle picked at the hem of her sleeve nervously, wishing so desperately that Steve would have called first. When he had asked the question initially, the answer felt numb in the back of her brain. No, she wouldn’t have picked up the phone. She would have been too hurt and angry to even entertain the thought of Steve being in her life again. But now, now that he was here, that he was once again so ready to be there to protect her, she knew she would have picked up the phone.

“Matt… It’s Matt, right?” Steve asked as he lowered the shield to his side. Matt nodded in affirmation, still not deflating himself to try to measure up to the soldier, “Son, just go.” His commanding tone rocked Elle a bit, sending pins and needles down her spine and over her shoulders to her chest, something she hadn’t felt for the longest time and had forgotten.

“No. I was invited to come over and watch a movie. It’s Elle’s decision of who she wants here… and you are interrupting us,” Matt tried, his voice wavering just a bit. His eyes flicked between them and Elle refused to let them catch her own, instead keeping her focus on that silver star. Did it really matter? Weren’t they the same person?  _ Could _ they be the same person? If Cap was here, then that had to mean that under the thick blue canvas and kevlar, her Steve was here too. 

Taking a deep breath, Elle forced her eyes away from his chest and met Matt’s. “You should go.”

That certainly wasn’t what Matt was expecting and Steve had to stop himself from letting a smirk crawl across his lips. He never wanted to be the guy who got a big head from all of it, but since he had spent the majority of his life getting zero attention from the opposite sex, the fact that Elle had chosen him was still a little bit of a thrill. Matt nodded silently as he slowly deflated his chest, gathering his jacket from the chair in the living room. 

“So, I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?” the poor man tried, even going as far as to go for a kiss, but Elle turned her head. Even so, he kissed her cheek sweetly, her icy disposition doing little to put him off. Steve watched the whole exchange like a hawk, his earlier pride melting quickly into… jealousy. 

Matt showed himself out, letting the door slam behind him carelessly. The sharp noise made Elle jump, her emotions raw and ragged from everything that was happening. God, if Steve had just called first, she would have agreed to meet with him, to see what would happen, and then she could have dealt with Matt accordingly. Instead he had to show up out of nowhere, like he always did, interrupting her life in the worst ways. Always saving her from herself. Still, she couldn’t help but let out the small breath she didn’t know she was holding, relieved that there wasn’t a big fight in her living room. 

Slowly, Steve leaned the shield against the threshold into the kitchen, finally fully letting his guard down. Next came his gloves, the two being stashed in one of the cargo pockets of his pants for safe keeping. Elle couldn’t help but watch him, her eyes studying his deliberate movements as he made himself more comfortable, his wet boots being left on the tile floor. It was almost as if these four walls had a memory, knowing just where his presence should be and depositing those items in that space. 

With tentative hands, she reached back out, her palms laying flat on his chest as her fingers went to work on the flaps of fabric that were attached to his harness. She had no idea how he actually got in or out of the damn suit, much less of his own accord. He probably had an assistant or some pretty woman who helped him, who flirted with him and tended to his wounds when he got back from a mission. Elle hated her already.

“How long?” Steve asked, his strong fingers wrapping around her wrists, stopping her work but keeping her hands firmly in their place. 

“What?”

“How long has that been going on?” and his eyes were dark, much darker than they had been when he first stepped back into her life. There was a fire and intensity that she knew just a little too well behind them, and the feeling of his skin on her own sparked up desires that she had thought long dead. 

“A couple of weeks, maybe a month at most,” she whispered, unable to tear her eyes from his. Steve nodded slightly but didn’t loosen his grip, instead taking a step closer to her, his chest centimeters from her own. 

“Did you sleep with him?”

It was a simple yes or no question but one that was dangerous either way. She didn’t want to lie. She didn’t want to hurt him either. Would it bother him if she told the truth? He had been in DC for a year, she was sure that he had more than a few late nights with the girl who helped him into his suit that she thoroughly loathed right now. “No. We didn’t.”

Her hesitation was truth enough for him. All it did was spur the jealousy that was starting to course even stronger through his veins. Taking another step forward forced her to step back, gritting his teeth, “I didn’t go against orders just to have you lie to me.” She mirrored his steps, going backwards until her back met the wall. Honestly, she knew that Steve would never hurt her but the look in his eyes sent a chill down her spine and a spark at her core. He was jealous, possessive even. 

“So what if I did, Rogers? You left, remember?” She challenged, pulling her wrists from his grip and letting her arms fall to her sides. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t break any rules-”

“I don’t give a fuck about the rules anymore,” he growled. He knew she was right, but the thought of another man’s hands on her body drove Steve absolutely insane, “Tell me, did he at least know what he had when he had you?” and his leg managed to find its way between her own, his thigh dangerously close to where she needed the most attention. 

Elle raised her chin, looking him in the eye, refusing to let herself be pushed around by him, even though she desperately wanted him to pull her body to his own, “He was... timid. Gentle.”

Hearing her speak so confidently stirred something inside him even more and his fingers played with the hem of her sweater, teasing it up a bit until they found the soft skin of her waist. Instinctively, her hips moved forward a bit, trying to find that bit of contact they wanted so badly, but Steve wasn’t going to allow that. There was no way he was giving up his control that easily. 

“Is that what you like now?” he asked, his voice dangerously low, his eyes dark, his lips wet from the rain and his tongue sliding along in anticipation, “Because I seem to remember you liking confidence, a man who knew how to take what he wanted,” and he yanked her sweater up and over her head in one smooth motion. Elle whimpered slightly at the sudden motion but did nothing to stop him, her brain seeming to switch off all other thoughts of anything but the Super Soldier in front of her. He had her trapped in the most delicious way possible, his need to possess her in every way chipping away at the last strings of her stubborn resolve. His lips traced the edge of her jaw, not allowing himself to taste her again, teasing the goosebumps from her flesh as he made his way to the shell of her ear, “Tell me, Elle, did he satisfy you?” his hands pressing into the soft skin of her waist, hard enough to bruise.

His musk mixed with the fresh smell of the rain, tying a new memory of him to her already buzzing brain. “No,” fell from her lips, her fingers gripping the harness at his shoulders tight, pulling him to her but he refused to move, refused to close the few centimeters of distance between them.

“Does he know your body like I do?” and his fingertips snaked up from her waist, his palms covering each breast, allowing himself that indulgence after so many nights of having to rely on his memory. Her back arched into his touch, the thin lace between their skin frustrating them equally. The straps fell limply from her shoulders and his fingers didn’t waste any time, running his calloused tips over her sensitive bud, enjoying the shiver that ran through her.

“Does he know what you want, what will bring you to your knees?” His right hand left its welcome position only to go higher, resting at the side of her neck, his thumb reaching across her throat, not yet posing any danger, but the threat was still there. The coolness of the metal of the star on his chest made her gasp when it met her cleavage, Steve letting his body finally respond to her. His thigh moved against her own and even through the thick layers of armor, his hardness was evident, the contact making a groan die in his throat.

“Does he fuck you like I do?”

The smallest of whimpers came from her, not because she was afraid, but because he insisted on making her suffer with his teasing and questions. The hard canvas was scratchy against her delicate skin but she welcomed the contact gladly, sure that his chest on her own being the only thing keeping her upright at this moment, “No. He was fucking disappointing because he wasn’t you,” she breathed.

Her admittance was enough for him, to know that she had missed him as much as he missed her was all he really wanted. But there was one final question he had to know the answer to, that would scratch at the back of his brain until nothing was left, “When was the last time a man made you cum?”

Her hips tried to find his own, to find any contact to give her the tiniest bit of release from the tension that had wound so tightly in her core. “A year ago,” she moaned softly, pinpricks of frustrated tears at the corners of her eyes. She could feel him smirk against her ear, the hand on her neck moving to grip the side of her head. His lips softly grazed her jawline until they found her own, his breath mixing so readily as he hovered just beyond her touch, tempting her to the very edge of sanity.

“Let’s fix that.”

It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room, her skin turning to pinpricks as his hands left her body. The buzzing in her brain became louder, taking away any other noise and Elle swore to God that she was going to pass out. His presence changed everything for her, forcing her brain to listen to her heart for the first time. Could someone die from being touch starved, from being away from their lover for so long? Could she survive letting him go again? A frustrated cry came from her throat, her hands struggling to hold onto the harness of his uniform as Steve fell to his knees, his hot breath hovering just below her navel. She wouldn’t let go, she refused.

Deftly, his fingertips returned to her hips, hooking at the waistband of her leggings, his head tilting up as he dragged them down her thighs. The cotton of her panties betrayed her as they went down, her deep musk filling the air as he left little kisses in his wake. A warmth grew within his chest as her fingers tangled themselves in his hair. He had been with girls before, the USO tours allowing him more than enough opportunity. But Elle was different. She was bold and brilliant, like the first time he laid eyes on the lights of Times Square. Her laugh and smile made his heart full, her kisses got him drunk. But it was her soft independence that made Steve fall in love with her, how she took pride in the life she had built but still allowed him to live it with her. 

It nearly destroyed him when he had to leave her. He wasn’t right for weeks, maybe months after. Even Fury noticed, ordering him to remember his place, remember that he was a soldier first and foremost. Captain Rogers was made to serve his country first. But tonight, Steve needed to serve himself. Her small gasp when his lips made contact with the impossibly soft skin just above her bud spurred and stoked the fire within him. How many nights did he lie awake, thinking of her? How many times did he take himself into his own hand, trying his best to remember how she felt, how she moved? But still there were some things that his mind was never able to recreate; her sounds, her smell, her taste.

“Oh god, Steve,” Elle cried. His lips found her most sensitive bud, a man once starving finding the juiciest fruit on the tree. The flat of his tongue moved over her and she threw her head back into the wall, her hips instinctively pressing into him. Jesus Christ, how long had it been since they did that on their own? Matt was a poor substitute, a lukewarm body to press up to, and Elle always tried to act how she wished her body would react. Always too in her own head. Always too far reserved to just let go. 

Or maybe Matt was never going to be the one who could set her heart racing. He was never going to be the one who knew her so well that she had no choice but to be vulnerable with him. Steve had ruined her forever, he made sure of that. His lips circled around her clit, sucking just enough to pull back the hood, and her legs started to shake from the effort of having to hold herself up while he seized control of her body. His hands moved under each thigh, gently guiding her right leg to rest over his shoulder, opening her up even more to him. The strength of his hands pushed her ass firmly back into the wall and he lifted her up slightly, draping her other leg over his shoulder as well. 

All Elle could do was hold on, gripping his harness for dear life. To hold her up against the wall like this was nothing for him. She was exposed and raw, vulnerable in both body and mind, and yet she could only trust that Steve wasn’t ever going to let her fall. She let out a deep moan as his tongue worked against her, the coil in her core tightening much more than it had in a long time. Bravely, she moved her hand from the harness up to his hair, running her fingers through the shorter spiky style and a soft growl came from him, the sound reverberating against her. 

Fuck, her fingers in his hair. He had forgotten how much he loved that feeling, how much it turned him on. His hands pulled her legs apart just a little more, needing to make sure she knew that she was his and only his. His tongue dipped into her, just enough to lap up the juices that were threatening to drip, and he brought his attentions back to her clit, wanting to finish the job properly. His eyes flicked up, needing to see her in all her beauty again. The smooth skin of her stomach trembled, her tits bouncing in their lacy confines every time her breath hitched in her chest. Neck tense as her head tilted up, her eyes fluttered shut as another cry escaped her lips. She was close, so very close. 

Just for a moment, Steve pulled his lips away. “Look at me,” he commanded and Elle couldn’t help but comply. With a deep breath, she opened her eyes, locking on his own, and the deepest darkest truth rang clear and true in her mind.

Elle Williams was in love with Steve Rogers.

“Fuck!” she screamed as the burning hot coil snapped in her core, his mouth creating wave after wave of pleasure. Her fingers gripped his hair, keeping his mouth right where she needed it the most, and he refused to let any of her juices go to waste. Her thighs trembled against him, her body shuddering with overstimulation. Steve groaned softly into her cunt, her orgasm making his cock throb for attention, the thick fabric of his pants failing to hide his hardness. He needed her. Now.

Gently, Steve adjusted her legs again, moving each one off his shoulders and letting them settle at his waist. He slowly lowered her, her back dragging down against the wall, chest heaving as she caught her breath. Her ass landed in his lap and he gently moved the hair from her face. God, she was so beautiful, especially when she was like this: used by him. She straddled his lap right there on the floor, still twitching slightly from the bliss he just gave her.

Exhaustion, both physically and mentally, started to seep in. Her body hadn’t felt this spent in the longest time, long-forgotten muscles having ached for release. But it was her mind that felt like it was waking up, foggy and punch-drunk, realizing that she had been living a damn lie. No matter how many times she had told herself no, told her heart to shut up and go sit in the corner, it refused to be muted-- and Steve’s blue eyes could never be grayed out. Once the buzzing in her brain subsided, Elle could finally open her eyes again. 

Her grip on his harness tightened and she pulled him to her, her lips crashing onto his own, the first kiss of the rest of her life. The taste of herself on his lips was like a drug. Elle had no idea how much she truly missed him until he was right there, his lips on her own with a bruising force, the one thing she could never replace. 

A deep groan escaped from the depths of his soul at the feel of her lips on his own again. Immediately, a hand went for her hair, his fingers tangling in it so thoroughly that she had to stay right there with him. There was no way he was ever going to let her go again. This kiss was too hot, too needy, too passionate for it to be something purely physical. Steve could feel her running through his very veins, even outpacing the serum in his blood. Her tongue moved against his own, renewing the taste of herself and his arm latched around her waist, pulling her torso tight to him, willing to feel her soft skin on his own again.

“Mmm, too many layers…” she murmured between kisses, her fingers clawing desperately at the patches at his shoulders again. They moved under the straps of the harness, finally pushing them off, and Steve reached behind himself, pulling the velcroed fabric loose. “How the fuck…” she whispered against his lips and he couldn’t help but let a small chuckle bubble up. Her fingers roamed his chest over the rough kevlar, searching desperately for some opening- buttons, a zipper, some damn ties if that’s how the suit stayed on. Steve softly bit his bottom lip as he reached above himself, his hands going for something at the back of his neck. The pull of the zipper was hidden in a flap, ensuring that he couldn’t be caught vulnerable during attacks. As soon as she realized where the zip was, Elle’s fingers were on it, tugging it all the way down to his waist.

The top fell to the floor and Steve’s lips went for the sensitive pulse point in her neck, sending shivers through her. Deftly, he unhooked the clasp of her bra, throwing it on top of his jacket, and his hands relished in the newly revealed skin, palming her breasts. A small moan escaped her throat at his touch, throwing her head back and arching her back into him, and he couldn’t help but grin against her skin. She made him feel like a god; when it came to how he treated her body, he could do no wrong. It was those little things, the small touches and sounds, those were the things that could never be satisfied on his own. Could he cum? Yes. But that wasn’t what made him a man. 

Her fingers moved under the hem of his tight athletic shirt and her touch made his breath hitch in his throat. The hard muscles smoothed under her, harder than how she remembered. He had said he had been training, the new regime taking an already perfect specimen and somehow making it better. Biting her bottom lip, Elle pulled the shirt up and off of him, the view only serving to give her that drop feeling in her core. God, he spoiled her. She couldn’t help but run her fingers along the divets of his skin again, loving how even the lightest of touches made his abs tremble. The blush rose up along her decolletage and his lips followed it gladly, coaxing a nipple hard with his tongue. God, she was too turned on for her own good. He had ruined her, made it so she wouldn’t ever be satisfied by anyone else, even herself at this point. Her fingers fumbled with the buckle of his belt, the metal being heavier than she was used to. “Pants. Off. Now.”

Fuck, Steve was more than happy to oblige. Swatting her fingers away, he smoothed his hands over her thighs, making sure her legs were around his waist before he stood up, bringing her with him. The leather of his belt was rough on the back of her thighs, but she didn’t care. He could mark her in any way he wanted; she was completely and fully his. Effortlessly, he carried her over to the couch, the very same couch he left her alone a year ago, determined to make a new memory. Her lips went for his again as he gently let her down, allowing her to stand on her own for now. Desperately, her fingers went back to work on the belt, letting it drop to the floor around his feet before making quick work of his pants.

A hiss came from between his teeth as she took him in her hands, her touch dangerously close to setting him off right there. His arms wrapped around her tightly, pulling the full length of her body against his. This was an addiction, a primal need, fueled by desire. This was a battlefield; two sides warring over their love for each other and desperation to protect each other. This was something that was so familiar yet so foreign for the man out of time. He wasn’t used to losing. Even when he had been knocked down, he always got right back up. But this time, right now, he would have to lose the war in order to gain something much greater. But when her teeth dragged along the cut of his jaw and her hands ran smoothly over his length, he knew that it was worth it. She was worth it.

Hands gripped tight to her hips, Steve fell back onto the couch and Elle couldn’t help but follow him, straddling him once again. He took her lips in his with a bruising force, trying to convey to her what he just didn’t have the words to describe. He was in love with her and he wasn’t going to let her slip through his fingers again. 

“Shit,” he breathed, breaking the kiss when she ran his tip along her slick folds, her core nearly dripping from her desire. Her head was spinning, her hips just barely in her control but she was determined to keep him at her mercy. Not yet, she wouldn’t give him what he wanted just yet. His hot, ragged breath mixed with her own, foreheads together, her fingers purposely swirling him around her cunt. 

“Is this what you came here for, Steve?” Elle purred, relishing in the power she had in this moment, “Is this what you hoped would happen? Is this worth going AWOL for?” He hissed again as her hand went back to work, long strokes in time with her hips, just beyond his length. “I missed you for so long, tried so hard to replace you. Tell me, Steve, did you try to replace me?”

Suddenly, his left hand went to her throat like before, but this time he wasn’t afraid to put pressure on her windpipe. Her eyes widened, being met with his own with that darkness behind them, that intensity that meant he wasn’t giving up. He would lose the war, but he was going to win this fucking battle. 

“Shut up and sit down.”

Pulling her back to him, he crushed her lips with his own as he entered her, she taking his full length in one motion. The cry that came from her was the only way to break that kiss, the feel of her all around him sent his head spinning. He loosened his grip on her and Elle stilled for a moment. Steve had never been that… violent before, but she found that it only excited her more, the embers of the fire in her core blazing back up at his authority. Her hands went to his shoulders and she slowly eased herself up, letting her wetness smooth over him before she took him fully again, a jolt of electricity shooting up her spine directly into her brain. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” she whispered against his jaw. There really was nothing like him. His body was made for her, to be of service to her, and he knew exactly how to use it. She pulled herself up again, arching her back to let him slide nearly out, and he took her tits in both his hands, his teeth scraping against her hardened bud. Another gasp bubbled out from her as he arched his hips up to meet her own, each thrust winding the coil even tighter.

Moving his hands back down to her hips, he gripped her hard enough to leave bruises, keeping her in place as he took over, rapid, deep thrusts coaxing more sounds from her. Fuck, he loved how she sounded when she was on him, when he was pounding her so throughly that her head fell into the crook of his neck. Her nails dug into his shoulders, leaving deep crescents in his skin, but the slight pain only brought him closer to the edge of oblivion. 

“Fuck, Steve, I’m gonna cum…” she mewled and he slowed down a just a little, feeling her tightening around him in anticipation. Turning his head, he captured her lips, cutting off the moan that she was letting free. With a few final deep thrusts, her walls quaked around him, the feeling of her orgasm finishing him off. They fell over the edge of sanity together, his arms wrapped around her tight, holding her there as he spilled warmth into her. She cried into his mouth, chest against chest, the force of the chemicals flooding her brain almost being too much to handle. Elle loved him. She loved every part of him. She loved the Depression-era old man and the modern Super Soldier. She loved the sweater wearing dork and Kevlar wrapped tactician. And now she knew for certain what she couldn’t deny anymore. She loved every part of Steve Rogers-- Even Captain America.

Steve moaned softly against her lips again, his muscles tiring for just a few moments. Neither of them wanted to move, just enjoying the feeling of being as one. Steve’s whole body felt like tingles as his muscles restored themselves. However, even with the serum, exhaustion was exhaustion and the couch wasn’t going to give either of them a decent night’s sleep. Elle buried her forehead into the crook of his neck again, allowing him to hold her against himself as he stood, the thin sheen of sweat on his chest from his efforts feeling delicious on her skin. He carried her out of the living room, leaving their clothes scattered, and brought her into her bedroom, laying both their bodies down on the familiar mattress. 

Instinctively, she reached out to him and he was more than happy to oblige. Soft kisses fluttered off her lips and onto his chest and neck as he pulled the blanket around the both of them. A final deep one on his lips sealed his fate. Letting his arm drape around her waist, Steve sighed. This was it. This is what it felt like to lose the war. He couldn’t pretend that this was just casual anymore, and admitting that meant that she was vulnerable. His weakness for her could be exploited, could be used against him. It was everything he feared over a year ago coming true.

But, as he looked down towards her, casually stroking her hair as he felt her breaths slow and even out as she drifted off to sleep, Steve knew he was stronger than anything that could tear them apart. Let them fucking try.

+++++++++++

Mornings after a storm were always like this, a calm, pink rising dawn illuminated the living room. Things--clothes--scattered across the floor; a shield left to rest in a doorway like it was a common umbrella. A man used the toe of his boot to move the black bra, tutting at what he found. Absolutely no respect. The air was heavy, carrying the memory of the night before. It was obvious what had happened. Rogers had an itch, and from the looks of things, last night he scratched it.

Deftly, the man leaned against the doorway to the bedroom, taking in the scene. Bedsheets tangled, skin uncovered, Rogers held tightly to the woman next to him. If he had been a more modest man, he would blush. 

But Nick Fury doesn’t blush.

“You came all the way to Brooklyn for a booty call?” his voice rang out, pulling the lovers from from their peaceful slumber. Elle immediately clutched for Steve, panic setting in. Who the fuck was in her apartment now? She grabbed at the blanket, covering up her naked body as much as she could as she turned to face the intruder. 

“Sir,” Steve sighed, pulling his free hand through his hair and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“When you didn’t report last night I had a feeling I knew where you went.”

“You mean you tracked me,” Steve corrected with a bite to his tone. Elle’s eyes darted between the two men. She supposed that this was Steve’s boss, the one that transferred him out of New York and into DC. This was the end, she knew it. He had defied orders and there was no way they would let him stay. “Elle isn’t a booty call and I wouldn’t have had to go AWOL if you would have just..”

“I don’t have to  _ just _ do anything, Rogers,” the other man bit back, but to his credit, Steve didn’t back down. 

“I deserve to be allowed to have a life.”

It was small but significant. No, Steve couldn’t stay with her, no matter how much she wanted him to. But he did see a life with her, in whatever way that was possible.

Fury sighed but nodded slightly, meeting Elle’s eyes, “As long as that life knows that you are an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. first.”

  
  



End file.
